Pound of Flesh
by Dark-n-Twisty
Summary: A debt is owed to the Mai, and Oliviya King will have to pay it whether her sister is the Uniter or not. But a slave by any other name is still just a slave. Even if they want to sugarcoat her servitude with pretty words like "destiny." Loving Chloe has always been easy for Oliviya, but sacrificing her freewill to atone for the sins of her ancestors...that might take her a minute.
1. Ties that Bind

**Pairing**: Alek/OC

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing.

**Summary**: The last thing Oliviya King needs is yet another reason to resent her little sister, but the Mai and all the prophecies they bring with them seem determined to make it so.

**AN**: I wrote this fic mostly because the main female protagonist of the show left a lot to be desired and I was greatly inspired by Egyptian Kiss' wonderful Alek/OC story Touched by the Goddess. You all should definitely check it out.

::

**1 Ties that Bind**

::

Just on the edges of one of the better-known districts in the Ukraine, lay a community that not many tourists dared venture into, though "community" was hardly what its inhabitants would call it. Most would probably liken it to a black stain on the progress of humanity. A self contained Mecca for all transactions of a less than legal nature, one could find themselves never lacking an opportunity to sell their soul (or another's) for the right price in _Chernyĭ Raĭona_, one of the few crime districts to survive the country's move to independence.

To the untrained eye, the barren wasteland of rundown warehouses, abandoned factories, and empty streets would seem unremarkable, but if you were in the know and you had the cash, _Chernyĭ Raĭona _was open for business. It took little imagination to figure out what kind of business brought in the most profit in the derelict town.

Girls; ages 4-15, near enough worth their weight in gold for the members of the Eight-Circle Triad, were the hottest commodity aside from drugs and less troublesome to come by. One could never underestimate the market for such things, and there were all kinds of deplorable individuals ready and willing to spend, steal, or borrow hard earned money to acquire them.

Before the King's, life in the factory had been simple for her. Do as your told, and you'll survive. Keep yourself useful or die. These were the rules Oliviya, and the others like her, had lived by for as long as she could remember.

Not many of the other girls had much fight left in them anyway, and that was just the way Papa Viktor preferred it. Like animals stolen from the wild and kept from the sun, the untamed light of freedom slowly but surely waned from their eyes (almost as quickly as their innocence), with every passing day until the word "freedom" became just that, a word.

The will to resist was all but a distant memory for most of them. No one dared speak of home; they'd been captive much too long for that, snatched away from border cities and districts all over the Eastern Ukraine, and the haze of confusion and fear that followed "the Capture" kept them complacent, at least until they were old enough to gain favor with the higher ups.

Often times, she counted herself fortunate that she'd been taken so young, younger even than some of the girls twice her age, especially when she heard their cries late at night huddled beneath the warm blankets of the bunks they were made to share, one of the few luxuries afforded them when they weren't entertaining clients.

She had no memories of windows without bars, no recollection of the warm feel of a mother's touch, and so had grasped at her new role with both hands, looking for approval wherever she could. She'd grown accustomed to the strangers' hands that brushed back her dark hair reverently as if she were the finest of dolls; taken to heart their silver-tongued whispers in the shell of her ear that she was by far the prettiest "_anhel_" they'd ever seen. It had been an easy existence for a child so unfamiliar with love.

She had _welcomed_ the attention her doe eyes attracted from the visiting business partners before one of the more willful girl's freshly plucked from a busy street during one of the annual _'fishing'_ trips (no doubt for the vibrancy of her blue eyes) had revealed that grown men weren't supposed to touch little girls that way, weren't supposed to lovingly run their hands along the back of her neck in quiet reverence, or gaze upon her with a hunger meant only for women. She hadn't understood at the time, hadn't thought anything wrong with her life…and so she'd gone to Viktor.

Because in her naïve six-year-old minds eye, he knew everything and the golden wrapped chocolates he gifted her with every time she pleased him meant he cared for her. It was the first time she'd ever questioned her place and when he'd sent her off in tears with a stinging cheek and a promise to see about that nasty girl's big mouth, Oliviya thought she couldn't have been more heartbroken. Until she'd realized the girl with the mesmerizing blue eyes hadn't been in her bunk after lights out, nor had she been the next day, or the next.

And that's when she'd run; as fast as her clumsy feet could carry her one day while her "caretaker" had been preoccupied relieving himself in an alley and left her unattended. Never mind that she had nowhere to run, or everything that she knew about herself could very well be a lie. Who knew if her name had ever been Oliviya? None of it had mattered in that moment, but the taste of fresh air on her tongue. It had taken her most of the day to reach the heart of the neighboring town, heart hammering so loudly in her chest she was sure it would give her away as she made her escape.

How lucky she'd been to chance upon the neighboring towns orphanage children out buying groceries with their den mother. There had only been five or so kids accompanying her, but apparently it had been enough to lose track of as she'd mistaken the little brunette as part of her group and herded her onto the bus with the rest of the children.

It was a blessed mistake and though it had only taken Mistress Yelena two hours after they'd passed over the threshold of the rundown orphanage for her to figure out the girl wasn't actually one of her wards, Oliviya knew somehow that this place was the start of a whole new beginning for her. All she had to do was prove her worth and that was nothing new for her.

Yelena, overworked and understaffed as she was, had been all set to phone the authorities, for what could she possibly do with yet another child to look after. The government had all but deserted them out here, too busy with politics and fighting over funding to bother with another orphanage looking for a bigger hand-out, and she wasn't so confident in her ability to keep track of yet another child when she was already teetering on exhaustion with seventeen wards under her care.

But all thoughts of foisting the little brunette onto the police left her the minute she spotted the telltale figure-eight tattooed on the inside of the child's tiny wrist, a brand of ownership to anyone who believed the whispers, whispers of a town so full of corruption and sin only devils would venture in. And while Yelena was much too rational to find merit in ghost stories, she took stock of the girl before her more clearly, her keen eyes running over the child's beautiful face and dark spun hair. Yes, Yelena mused sadly, the little one would have been quite a treasure for the soulless men who dealt in flesh.

Even as Oliviya tried tugging her sleeve over the offending mark, shame heavy on her heart, she was sure the woman had recognized the symbol for what it was. And it was then, as the world-weary woman knelt before her, the tattered folds of her thick woven skirt spread around her, that the six-year-old experienced her first act of true kindness. Warm hands, roughened and textured from years of labor, caressed her cheeks in a fashion quite unlike any before and leveled their eyes for a proper meeting.

"Vse, chto vy znaete..." she whispered softly, rubbing the pads of her thumbs gently against the little girl's skin, "vse, chto vy uchili, zabytʹ dorogogo odin. Segodnya ... Vy rodilisʹ."

Oliviya smiled then, hoping her eyes would convey how grateful she was to be kept. The woman's echoing smile was answer enough.

::

"_Everything you know...everything you have been taught, forget, dear-one. Today…you are born_."

::

Even with the Yelena's kind soul, Oliviya took great pains to prove herself invaluable, lending a hand wherever was needed and always before she was asked. _Prove your usefulness._ It was the one lesson she had not been able to shake despite Yelena's advice.

And though she hadn't made any friends, she was content to watch the others play and laugh amongst each other. Yelena, who'd moonlighted for a time as a school teacher, had been using every spare minute she had to teach Oliviya how to read, a talent her captors hadn't deemed useful or necessary. It was a whole new world; each page a new experience, and she found comfort in them, though it had proven itself to be both a blessing and a curse. For as her knowledge base grew with every book, she began shying away from interacting with the other children altogether, preferring instead to curl up in a corner forgotten with whatever she could get her hands on.

She had only been at the orphanage a few months when the little blonde terror had reared her curly head to save her from a descent into isolation, dropped on the orphanages doorstep one summer night with only a small box of papers and trinkets to identify her. And though she was uncharacteristically small for a toddler, what little Chloe lacked in size she made up for in lung capacity.

For the first few days, the girl had done nothing but holler all through the night, leaving the Mistress both frazzled and frustrated as it kept the other children in the nursery awake, so much so that Yelena had been forced to sequester the girl's crib in her office away from the others. The child refused to eat and willfully avoided sleep as if it were the greatest evil imaginable. By the fourth day the other kids had taken to walking around with their fingers plugged in their ears to avoid the banshee-like shrieks. Yelena had been at her wits end as to how to deal with the child, and at that point all Oliviya had wanted was to stop the screaming.

After helping with kitchen duty, she prepped a bottle and hid it in the folds of her apron, hoping to keep her venture a secret lest she fail. Quietly, she approached the screaming bundle of blonde in the crib as if she were the wildest of strays, ready to pounce on prey that ventured too close. The trepidation lasted as long as it took to reach the slates of the wooden crib. Because she hadn't been tall enough to reach over the crib, she'd thrust the warm bottle through the cribs slates holding it out for the toddler expectantly, shaking it enticingly for good measure.

And as if by some rare form of magic she'd found an off switch for the squirming babe, Chloe's cries came to a standstill, and the older girl heaved a near backbreaking sigh of relief. The silence that followed had been a thing of true beauty. Little hands wrapped unexpectedly around her own, tugging her forward along with the bottle and she grimaced in disgust as the girl's drool traveled down her hand, but pushed her discomfort away less she anger the little devil enough to take up her hollering again.

Once the bottle was finished, Oliviya went to reclaim her hand so she could find Yelena and tell her of the amazing feat she'd accomplished. But Chloe's grip was unrelenting and even as her brow twitched in irritation every time her tugging proved futile, the tinkling laughter that fell from the three-year-olds mouth at this newly discovered game was enough to warrant Oliviya's smile.

From that day on, neither girl was ever seen without the other. It was not for lack of trying on Oliviya's part. But for whatever reason, Chloe seemed permanently attached to her, and if she were honest, most days she felt the same pull towards the girl and gravity had little to do with it. It was a fondness she'd hardly understood at the time, being that she hadn't really bonded with anyone besides Yelena. Understandably, she was leery of people in general.

So when a man had shown up seemingly out of thin air to take Chloe away, Oliviya had been fearful of his intentions. She'd noticed him out of the corner of her eye for weeks prior to actually meeting the illusive Malcolm King as she and Chloe played on the front steps of the orphanage. When she'd told the Mistress of her worries, the woman had gently padded her cheek while explaining that not everyone had such vile intentions for sweet little girls like her and Chloe and that this man, or another family just like him, could very well be the one to provide a good home for her little blonde friend and one day soon Oliviya would have to let them, for everyone left the orphanage at some point. And though she was saddened at the prospect of her first real friend leaving her behind, Yelena's words gave her hope. Hope that one day she too would find a family all her own.

But alas, fate had different plans.

The day Malcolm had come to take little Chloe home with him, the girl had pitched the mother of all fits, attaching herself to Oliviya's waist with a stubborn tilt of her chin. She'd screamed and she'd kicked and she'd begged and she'd cried, and despite Oliviya's best efforts, in this, she could not calm her friend. Tears of frustration came unbidden, and she pulled Chloe tightly to her then, offering the girl what little comfort she could.

Yelena had stepped in, the scene far too much for her heart to take as she pulled the man aside and made a last minute decision that would unwittingly seal both girls' fates, together and apart.

"Mr. King," Yelena spoke, the English words tasting alien on her tongue as she ushered the man a few steps away from the pair, "Why not take them both? Chloe is very fond of Oliviya and they have been inseparable since they came to me."

"I don't know…" Malcolm hedged, glancing over his shoulder, his eyes taking note of the way the older girl swept Chloe's hair back fondly and whispered softly to her in their native tongue and how the action seemed to calm both girls immensely. He really hadn't planned on adopting one child let alone two, but the radiance of the little blonde had near enough grasped at his heartstrings when he'd spied her playing on his way into work. Although, now that he had an opportunity to study her more closely, he admitted the older girl was truly just as spellbinding as the girl in her arms had been, only there was an air about her that he'd been cautious of, a haunted quality he wasn't quite sure he or his wife would be equipped to handle.

"Are they sisters?" he questioned as he spotted the similar coloring of their grey eyes, turning back to face the caretaker then, already knowing in his heart what the answer would be.

"As good as, Mr. King," Yelena promised with a smile, "as good as."

And so it was that both girls were bound for a new family in America, and though no one was aware that Oliviya knew enough of the English language to piece together their conversation, the words spoken would admittedly haunt her for years to come. Because in the dark recesses of her heart, she would always wonder whether the King's would've chosen her had it not been for Chloe, or whether she'd merely been a toss-in to placate the child they'd actually wanted.

::

**AN**: I needed a break from my writers' block concerning my Twilight fic and this is sort of the result. Some stories come more easily than others I guess. This one is kind of writing itself. Please let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is always welcomed.

**Side Note:** All apologies if the Russian was dreadful, I got it off a translation site. I debated a bit whether to have the native tongue for the girl's be Ukrainian or Russian seeing as most people in the Ukraine speak both. It was a toss up really but I read somewhere that it was a matter of great debate as some Ukrainians feel now that they are independent that they shouldn't have to learn Russian, which is still mandatory in their schooling. I tried to keep the girls in context, as around the time they were born the Ukraine was a fairly new country and Russians were a strong minority at the time, so much so that most everyone in the Ukraine speaks the language as well as Ukrainian even if they aren't Russian.

FYI, the Ukrainian city mentioned above is entirely fictional, and translates to 'Black District' in Russian.

**Feed the beast peeps, and review…please.**


	2. Path of Pins

**Pairing**: Alek/OC

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. Except my shoes, those are mine.

**Summary**: The last thing Oliviya King needs is yet another reason to resent her lovable little sister, but the Mai and all the prophecies they bring with them seem determined to make it so.

::

**2 Path of Pins**

:: 

San Francisco…it was a whole new world. The streets were alive with a pulse you could almost hear if you listened close enough, the culture dripping in diversity (she'd honestly never seen so many different faces, unaware skin colors came in such variety), and there was a sort of freshness about the air that was baffling in light of the urban setting. All in all, it was everything and nothing she imagined it would be.

And the lights, oh the lights…

Oliviya had never seen so many lights and she remembered quite vividly her first few nights in the Bay being unable to grasp how anyone could even dream of sleeping when the night looked as though the heavens had fallen to earth. For a time, she and Chloe had been enamored with the sport of trying to count them all from the front stoop of their new home, huddled together beneath a blanket with their necks craned to see over the trees and telephone poles that lined the street, giggling in secret as they pointed out each time a new ball of light caught their eye.

Those first few days—they'd been in awe of it all, the magic of the city had laid claim to their souls and Oliviya was pretty sure they would never get them back. And Meredith, the sweet woman, had been so amazingly kind that it made Oliviya ache with the realization that she finally understood what all of those girls had been crying out for in that dilapidated warehouse, what they were probably _still_ crying out for as she laid safe and dreaming an ocean away. Because to have this kind of warmth ripped away from you so unexpectedly must have been nothing less than torture.

But she knew it wouldn't last, that feeling of rightness, of belonging. Not with her doubts still floating just below the surface, ready to drown her the moment she stopped treading. Not when she wasn't certain of her place in this new family portrait or how permanent the arrangement truly was.

She'd catch them looking at her sometimes, Malcolm more so than Meredith, when they thought she was preoccupied with Chloe or her ever growing mountain of books. Their gazes brushed against her skin like roughened wool, as if she were a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit. In her youth, it was enough to make her wonder if maybe she didn't. Because Oliviya could admit she wasn't a happy child most days nor was she the most deserving of the girl's in _Chernyĭ Raĭona_, and they'd have to be blind not to notice the way she'd flinch whenever Malcolm got too close, whenever anyone got too close.

Back at the orphanage, she'd been worried that no one would want to take her because she wasn't like the others, quick to laugh or smile at the prospective parents looking for children to love and cherish and call their own. Because she knew, even if no one voiced it, that she wasn't an easy person to love. That understanding had left her feeling empty after a childhood full of adoration, however tainted it may have been, that in another life, she too had been cherished, for all the wrong reasons maybe. But to a child's mind, that hardly mattered.

It didn't help that the King's had seemed to warm to Chloe right away, but then…she could hardly blame them for that. After all, hadn't the little scoundrel captured her own heart so completely?

It did, however, leave her feeling as though she were an outsider looking in. While she was in the King's family, she'd never really felt like _part_ of the family. But, it wouldn't be fair to heap all the blame on them, for all her insecurities, they had tried their damnedest to peal back her walls, brick by tedious brick. But every time they ventured too close, reached their hands too far in, Oliviya found herself backing away, filling the gaps with something stronger, fearful of the contact.

Chloe, on the other hand, had no problems adjusting to their new family. That girl felt vital to her very existence most days, her bright smile warming the hardening edges of Oliviya's heart, their friendship so pure it would sometimes bring her to tears without warning, that she had a friend, a sister, someone in the world to love her without restraints.

Though she often questioned if that would always be enough.

::

It was years before Oliviya grew comfortable enough to call Meredith King her mother—long after her husband had stolen away into the night without so much as a parting "see you in the morning". Meredith had taken up the mantle of dual-parenthood with a vengeance Oliviya had to admire, so when the two of them had set about baking a cake for her sisters' 8th birthday, unaware that she'd never actually said the word aloud rather then just in her head, Oliviya, who'd been eying the chocolate covered spoon with a wild hunger ever since they'd finished frosting the cake had thanked her mother profusely when she had finally caved and handed it to her with a laugh.

Taken aback, Meredith, who'd been having her own battle with the can of sprinkle's meant for said cake, shrieked at a decibel almost worthy of her youngest daughter, pitching the can and its contents into the air as she pulled the wide-eyed brunette towards her in a hug so tight the girl could practically hear her bones shift.

Oliviya had been confused and slightly lacking in oxygen being smothered in the overly excited woman's bosom. "Ca…Can't breathe, mom."

That only proved to set Meredith off again, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes as she held the girl tighter to her, swinging her back and forth in her joy.

She had been so sure that her oldest would never gift her with the title of mother, even convinced herself that she was okay with it as it had taken every ounce of her resilience to get the girl to trust her when she said she cared, to feel comfortable enough to allow Meredith the privilege of tucking her in at night when she'd out grown the room she shared with Chloe.

Meredith could honestly say she'd never worked harder to earn someone's trust.

"Jeez, what gives, mom?" Her reluctant daughter asked again, patting her back awkwardly, while trying to maintain her grip on the precious frosted spoon.

_Thrice in one day, _Meredith thought, she'd definitely have to mark the calendar after this.

"I…" She faltered, the emotions she was feeling causing the words to get tangled in the base of her throat, "I-I, just really…love…_cake_." She finished with a sob, periodically squeezing the girl in her arms, kissing the crown of her brown hair reverently before loosening her grip.

And like any other kid on the cusp of adolescence, her ten-year-old sassed with an eye-roll to accompany for good measure, "Marry it why don't you."

The bellowing laughter that followed filled every corner of the house, traveling up the stairs to the ears of a rather anxious eight-year-old who'd been coloring patiently in her room during the birthday preparations, before the laughter had beckoned her out of her room and down the stairs.

The sight that greeted the little blonde had her giggling before she could bring her hands up to stop it, coming to stand between her sister who was shaking her hair free of sprinkles while slowly backing away from their mother, who looked to be crying she was laughing so hard.

"What happened?" Chloe asked, her wide eyes bouncing between the two in curiosity.

Oliviya answered through the side of her mouth as if she were scared speaking might set their mother off again, her eyes never leaving the heaving shoulders of the woman who struggled to get herself under control. "No wonder we only have cake once a year, it makes people crazy."

::

**AN**: Just wanted to give a bit more background into the family dynamic before we move into the main portion of the story. I wanted you guys to get to know Oliviya a bit better, faults and all, care about her and where her story goes before the other characters come into play. Also, I wasn't exactly sure what Chloe's dad's name was so I went with Malcolm. I'm not sure if I heard them mention it on the show, and seeing as I haven't read the books yet, I just went with the flow.

I did want to clarify that the spelling of Oliviya's name is a conscious choice as it is the Russian pronunciation of the name Olivia. Kind of like Oleksandra is Alexandra's.

Already working on the next chapter, and I hope to have it up fairly soon. Let's all remember that reviews feed my muse. Whether you love it or hate it let me know. Constructive feedback is always welcomed.


	3. The Discipline of Sharing

****Pairing**: **Alek/OC

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing you recognize.

**AN**: So I took a break from working on my Teen Wolf fic update that has me banging my head against a wall and decided to post a chapter for this fic. For whatever reason, Oliviya is the easiest of my OC's to write, which is weird for me considering I'm not all the confident with 3

* * *

><p>::<p>

**3 The Discipline of Sharing**

::

In a few years, the grace she carried with her even as she walked down the hall of her little two-story single-family 900 square-foot home would be impossible to ignore. The unconscious way her toes would point as she performed the most menial of chores would make her lips quirk every time and she'd shake her head in stubborn consternation, because all of it would lead back to one simple conclusion…her mother had been right. And though she was fond of the woman, Oliviya honestly loathed giving up her claim on '_I-told-you-so_', a smug American phrase she'd grown to love (though she was sure every culture had their own variation of the sentiment).

When she was older, and her form carried with it all the telltale signs of a dancer forged from sweat, blood, and perseverance, Oliviya could say she'd heard it a million times over...that it took more than instruction to move the way she did. Every dance teacher she'd ever had told her so.

She liked to think it took her very soul, her _essence,_ to dance like she'd never been disgusted upon every glance she took at her treacherous frame in the mirror, to let herself fall into a piece of music so completely that she could hardly remember that she and her body had not always been allies, hadn't always known each other so completely. For a large portion of her life, every man but her seemed to know her body better than she did, had possessed it before she could ever really get to know its lines and curves and grow into it the way normal girls did.

And to think it all started with a bang...

"More energy girls!" The ballet instructor shouted sternly, striking her cane firmly against the hardwood floor of the studio.

Oliviya fought back a dark smile as one of the girls in front of her winced from the force, having yet to grow accustomed to Madame Lerner's brisk tone of instruction.

When her mother had suggested dance lessons to the sisters as a way to get them to try something new, Oliviya had hardly been all that interested. She may even have felt a bit insulted that her mother felt the need to address a concern that Oliviya herself did not share. She may have been twelve, but she wasn't an idiot.

Giving them 'new experiences' had seemed more of a ploy to end what Meredith deemed an unnatural closeness that she and Chloe shared.

A letter home from school had been more than enough to convince their mother that she and Chloe clung to each other a bit too tightly in social settings, and their teacher felt it got in the way of them making friends with the other children. And apparently the worst thing you can tell a new adoptive parent is that their kids aren't playing well with others. From the abject horror on her mother's face as she explained that no it wasn't okay to ignore her classmates because they were stupid or because they made fun of Oliviya's lingering accent, it was right up there with triple 6's on the back of her and Chloe's skulls. And while Oliviya could understand her mother's concern, she hadn't appreciated the underhanded tactic. Mostly because it threatened a bond that she'd fought very hard to maintain.

For all that Chloe was, and all the difference between them, they were _sisters_. Oliviya could no sooner point to where she began and her little sister ended then she could function without air. The blonde attached herself to every part of her that at times Oliviya felt she had no other purpose then to make Chloe smile, to assure the girl's happiness even at the expense of her own. It was a heavy feeling, but one she'd attributed to being older and therefore responsible for the younger girl.

It was almost as if she'd been adrift for the first half of her life, never making a connection with anyone despite striving to please everyone around her, like she'd been waiting––waiting for Chloe. Maybe her heart had known what her mind had not—that if she could survive the horrible nightmares of her reality, it would all be worth it.

And Chloe had been worth it, worth it and so much more. Had proven her worth every time she'd try to coax a laugh from the older girl when the shadows became too dark in her eyes, or when she would climb into her bed and hold her when her nightmares, _memories_, were too vivid. When she'd swear to her sister as they brushed their teeth side by side every morning and night that she would always be there to make Oliviya smile even if it apparently killed the brunette to do so.

And so when their mother had propositioned them with dance lessons at a local studio, Chloe had begged her sister, full puppy-dog pout and all to agree because she'd seen the Nutcracker production on TV and decided she wanted to twirl like a sugar-plum fairy, Oliviya had caved, all the while cursing those dewy blue-gray eyes. She was going to have to start blindfolding herself whenever the little imp asked her for something.

Oliviya loathed to admit it, but her mother's plan had worked all too well. Only an hour into their first lesson; Chloe and another little girl with raven hair where huddled together snickering at their instructors funny tights and long nose. Oliviya had felt more than a hint of jealousy at the easy camaraderie between the two, even more so when she learned the little girl with pretty oriental features would actually be one of their grammar school classmates that coming year.

"I'm Chloe, and this is my sister Olly," The blonde introduced brightly, grabbing her reluctant sisters hand and pulling her forward, ignoring her sister's tense form and the way her new friend had to crane her neck to see her sister. Oliviya was eleven, and had just started her growth spurt, towering over both girl's by nearly a foot. Something that had never bothered her before today.

"W-o-w..." The little girl's eyes widened comically as they traveled up the expanse of the girl's seemingly never ending frame, canting her head back when they met the older girl's glacial eyes "You're like...tall-enough-to-reach-the-cereal-boxes tall."

Oliviya glared, sniffing her nose as if the action would remove the girl from her sight. "More like tall enough to squash you like a bug _tall_."

"That too..." The girl offered meekly, her little shoulders hitching up as she shuffled her feet awkwardly.

"Olly! Be nice" Chloe scolded her sister, kicking her in the shin for good measure.

"Oww," Oliviya huffed out, hopping on her foot to alleviate the pain. Throwing her sister a wounded look when she dropped her hand and sidled up to the little fire starter who she'd yet to learn the name of. She glared heatedly at the pair before her, rubbing her aching shin. "You, Judas!"

"Huh?" Was the confused response of both. The reference seemed to fly over both of the girls heads as they turned towards each other with quizzical expressions, and Oliviya would have taken some pride in that if it hadn't made her feel that much more on the outside of this new budding friendship.

"Olly, I think you're reading too much." Chloe chided, shaking her head in deep concern. Oliviya huffed at the mere thought, outraged when the other little girl nodded her head vigorously in agreement.

_Well_. Oliviya thought heatedly, turning her back on the duo as she crossed her arms, giving her full attention to the instructors lecture on the fundamentals of discipline.

Discipline she had plenty of, patience for stupidity— she'd have to work on.

But even with her back to them, she could still hear the girls conversing behind her, and she tried not to show how much it bothered her that Chloe was beginning to reach out to someone else for friendship. Even so, Chloe could tell she'd hurt her sister's feelings from the older girls rigged posture.

"Sorry about my sister. She's usually not so mean..." Chloe whispered behind her hand, though if her sister's stiff shoulders were anything to go by, she'd most definitely heard her.

The other girl snorted cutely as she shifted her leotard from riding up. "That's okay, my daddies say pretty girl's usually are. And she's _really _pretty-" She stated as if that fact meant all the difference, "I'm Amy, by the way."

Chloe's eyes widened in trepidation as her sisters shoulders went lax, not sure how the girl would take the comment. But then she caught the smirk that had unfurled on her sisters face as she glanced back at them, waggling her brows mockingly as if to say—'_Did you hear that, she called me pretty?'_

Luckily for Amy, she'd seemed to find the one thing sure to combat her sisters irritation. Though Oliviya was hardly easy to win over, complimenting her always seemed to placate her enough into giving people second chances. After all, being praised by strangers your whole life would give anyone a complex. And unfortunately, Oliviya knew she was no exception. It was a product from her demented childhood.

Taking a few steps back so that she was in line with both girls, Oliviya threw an arm over both their shoulders, "Amy, I think we're going to get along _just_ fine."

"Eyes front ladies!" The command was followed by a loud thwack that shook the younger girls enough to seek shelter behind Oliviya's taller frame.

Oliviya noticed that she seemed to be the only girl in the class immune to the gray-haired woman's harshness, meeting the woman's gaze head on. She figured it was because coming into a group of girls and being shouted at was hardly new territory for her.

The elder woman gave her a subtle nod as she spaced the girls one by one on the bar across the room, impressed with the eleven-year-olds calm demeanor.

In a few weeks time, when Chloe and Amy had both decided the instructor was too evil to be obeyed and ballet far too boring to keep up with, Oliviya would truly begin to flourish. It had been like coming up for air after a decade of drowning. And damn it all, but her mother could not have been more pleased when both her daughters came home happy, one with a new passion and the other a new friend.

And while she would have to get used to the idea of sharing her sister with Amy (and a nameless boy the two had met on the playground), Oliviya knew her sister would have to warm up to the idea of sharing her with the new ballet slippers she'd rushed out to get.

::

* * *

><p><strong>AN<strong>: The start of the series is next so chapters will lengthen. Just laying the groundwork here…I know it's not an epic update but feel free to tell me what you think anyways. I gotta tell you, I love summer. Perfect time to rediscover your muse, ain't it? No beta so all mistakes are my own. R&R…it really does make this process go faster. Case in point, some random review PM'd my ass and shamed me good into working on this fic. Lol.


End file.
